


Doors Once Opened

by Sevenscorpions



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Feels, Asgore mention, Asriel Dreemurr - Freeform, Asriel death, Backstory, Chara mention, Everything Hurts, Grief/Mourning, Memories, One Shot, Pre-Undertale, Some Backstory, chara death, photo album, the fallen child - Freeform, the first child - Freeform, young Asriel, young Chara
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-23
Updated: 2015-12-23
Packaged: 2018-05-08 15:44:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5503481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sevenscorpions/pseuds/Sevenscorpions
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Toriel decides she is ready to delve into the past, looking back on Asriel's childhood in the form of an old photo album. Takes place just before the events of Undertale.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Doors Once Opened

     It had been some time since Toriel had last entered the attic. She had no reason to venture back into the dusty, cramped little room, and she hated the cobwebs that stuck to her fur and her hands as she swatted them aside. The place hadn’t been cleaned in ages, and it was due for a good scrubbing, but no one was around to actually do it besides herself. Maybe it was the atmosphere, but she figured it wasn’t just herself that was uncomfortable inside. There was always something odd nowadays- doors left open when they should have been locked or old chairs that smelled like mothballs and gave you a jump when you saw them under their sheets. There were no windows, only a low ceiling, a single flickering lightbulb, and a cold draft. Below, the house was silent.

   Only the quiet ticking of a clock was any sign that the world hadn’t stopped in its tracks. She scanned the stacks of boxes and bric-a-brac that littered the shelves, until she spotted what she was looking for. It was tucked under a stack of gardening tools, a corner peeking out from beneath a coil of hose that had been haphazardly dropped on top. Toriel slid the book out from under the mess, brushed off the cover, and took one last fleeting look around before she headed back downstairs to the living room. Hearing the crackle of the fireplace, she could almost imagine that she wasn’t entirely alone. She settled herself in the old armchair, shifting so her dress wouldn’t bunch up uncomfortably. The book was larger than she remembered, much heavier. The hardcover was stamped with the words “Family Album” in large, friendly lettering. Just running her fingers over the rough edges of the pages was enough to make her hesitant to open it. She had been meaning to go back and fix it up when she was ready, and today she had just been listless. There was nothing left to do but think, and so she had decided that now was just as good a time as any. It was either this or bake three more pies. She took a deep breath, and opened the book to the first page.

   Oh. There, on the title page, was her fluid handwriting- ‘The Dreemurrs- Asgore, Toriel, and Asriel’. Her heart skipped a beat as she urged herself to get it over with, to just look for goodness’ sake. Below, added in a shaky, childish hand were the words ‘and Chara’. She remembered the day she had bought the photo album- it was Asriel’s second birthday, and she thought it would be fitting to record their memories together as he grew. She had found it in a little shop in Hotland- it was the biggest one they had. When Chara was found it was a surprise, but Asriel had been so happy for a new playmate- a new sibling, even. Asriel didn’t know how to write yet, so Chara guided his hand as they put their name in together. They were inseparable. The child had truly been a gift from above. Another page turned, and the photos began.

    They were lined up neatly, four to a page. Asgore had tried to secure them with glue, but it hadn’t dried properly. She had had to go back in with clear tape while he picked dried glue out of his fur, and he had kissed her forehead when he saw the finished result. She could practically feel his hand on her shoulder; his shadow hung over her sometimes, too deep and dark to ponder for long. The first photograph was the two of them, seated formally in their royal clothes. The throne room was glowing with the warm yellow light she had always associated with her husband. He sat, back straight, eyes forward, with a stern glance. It was almost the same pose they had used in their wedding photos, she remembered. Asgore had kept those.

   The next few were other milestones- finding out about her pregnancy, the first doctor’s appointment, the day before the baby was due. In every photo she had hardly had time to smile- the moments had been flying by so quickly back then. She was in such a blur, she wouldn’t have noticed if the sun had gone out. And there, on the second page, was Asriel. Her little boy. He had been born in the morning, a difficult labor. He had struggled to come into the world, just as he had struggled to leave it. When they placed him in her arms, he made the smallest noise. He nuzzled into her neck, eyes not even opened, and she was in love. She almost cried when they took him to clean him and test his weight. She couldn’t bear to be apart from him, even for a second. He seemed so delicate, so precious. Asgore had chosen the name- he was never creative that way- but Toriel found herself repeating the word over and over in the days that followed, as if she couldn’t grasp that he was real. Asriel. Her son.

    She flipped through page after page, watching him grow through the memories they had trapped on the glossy paper. Asriel’s first steps in the throne room. Asriel sitting in a high-chair, eagerly gobbling up spoonfuls of butterscotch pudding. Asgore giving him a bath. There was one photo that she had always liked- she kept it framed above the mantle in the palace. It was his sixth birthday, and she had knit him a sweater. It had taken her months, but she was ecstatic to see that not only did it fit, it was his new favorite. The green matched his eyes. She had asked him to stand outside where the light was better, and he had tripped and fallen- he landed in Asgore’s garden, and she had snapped the photo right as he had looked up at her. There was a laugh hidden just under the surface, a smile just about to bloom.

    The human appeared only once. They had never liked having their picture taken, regardless of how they felt about their new family. The day it happened, Asriel had come running full speed into the house, shouting “Mother, Mother you have to see! A human! Come on!” His voice was so high then- it had that squeak that men eventually outgrow. But he was just a little boy- all elbows and jumbled words and ears that flew out behind him as he sprinted back out. She hadn’t gone fast enough for him, and he ran back to tug her along, babbling about this new friend. The human was quiet, very restrained- they spoke only to answer the necessary questions of “are you alright” and “would you like to come with us”, but Asriel had already decided they were meant to be together. She didn’t dare bring up sending the child home, and from what she managed to uncover it seemed that they didn’t want to go back to the human realm anyway. Toriel wasn’t sure when it was that she officially began referring to Chara as her child, but the very first day as she kissed her son goodnight, Asriel had whispered “I always wanted to be a brother”.

    In and around the photos were handwritten captions, as well as mementos of events and holidays. The words were barely legible, the ink had been smudged by hands and shifting pages over the years. Every other word was a scribble, but luckily the subjects were relatively self explanatory. There were little paper umbrellas from Asgore’s favorite restaurant in Waterfall, recipes for pies that were the children’s favorites, birthday invitations, anniversary cards. On one page, a gold coin had been taped in place to commemorate Chara’s first birthday with the family. Eventually the photos became more and more scarce as she neared the halfway point of the album. Asriel got taller. Chara could be seen occasionally in the background of some of the pictures, a skinny blur of movement. Asgore was constantly trying to catch them unawares, but they always managed to cover their face or turn around at the last second. Looking back, in the least blurry of the images, Toriel could see that Chara was beginning to look run down.

   She was struck by the thought that she should have seen it coming. She knew Chara. She was her mother, after all. A mother should know when their baby is sick, even if she didn’t give birth to them. And how did she not notice? The more she dwelled on it, the more she remembered the human wasting away. By the end, they were gaunt and weak, a shadow of the little child that she had met years before. Chara didn’t speak of their life before they came to the Underground, only that they fiercely disliked their people. Toriel had often wondered if the sickness that had fallen on them was why they were so angry, so afraid of humanity. With all the strength human souls contained, their bodies were fragile and weak. When they sensed that she and Asgore were concerned, Chara lashed out. They spoke to no one but Asriel for almost two days, and when the rage had worn them out they just looked disdainful. Days became weeks and the sickness showed no signs of retreat. No matter what they fed them, how careful they were, Chara’s condition was rapidly deteriorating. Somewhere deep down, Toriel knew that Chara was not going to survive the illness. She wanted to tell Asriel, at least so he would not be plagued by false hope. She knew the truth would break his heart, but she could still hear the joy in his voice when he spoke about “when Chara gets better”. All she could do was offer a sad smile.

   The last day was unsettlingly quiet. All three Dreemurrs were present when Chara uttered their last request, coughed once, and took their final breath. Asgore stiffened, leaning down to comfort his son. Asriel was sobbing, unable to control his shaking hands. Toriel fled the room, hands over her mouth. She knew, she _knew_ this was a possibility but it wasn’t supposed to happen. Chara was supposed to sleep, mother and father and brother at their side, and in the morning they would awaken the picture of health. They would smile, drink some soup, and everything would be as good as new. She wanted to believe with her entire being that when she went back in, Chara would be sitting up and having a good laugh at their joke with no tears in sight. The scream that rang from that bedroom told her otherwise. Still in shock, she decided she would try to rest, lay down, and maybe get some sleep. When she woke, she’d be able to sort out her feelings and talk to Asriel. It was the worst decision she had ever made in her life. She woke with a start. There was absolute chaos. Asgore was enraged, tears streaming down is face, as he told her what had happened. After the word “war” she had stopped listening. She simply stood, began to pack her things, and told him she wished to arrange for an official abdication. The next few days, even months, were blank. Those hours were resigned to pain, denial, loss. She made a conscious effort not to imagine Asriel’s last moments, the struggle that went on up above. She left her wealth behind, left her husband to wage war on humanity on his own. Toriel remembered the exact moment she realized she didn’t love him anymore- the moment told her he planned to destroy every human being. How could she love him after that? How could she love someone whose response to grief was to suggest genocide? And then he had the nerve to tell her that she didn’t care about their son- that if she truly cared, she would agree with him. There was no kindness in his words, no acknowledgement that _she_  had lost someone too. Asgore had not carried him for months, endured labor, been his mother. Her family had diminished by half in one stroke. 

    Toriel realized she was staring at an empty page. How long had she been daydreaming? It couldn’t have been more than an hour, but it felt as if she had relived her entire life. Originally she had planned to fill multiple albums, and give them to Asriel and Chara when they were adults. In reality, she had filled barely half of one. She flipped further back, listening to the crinkle of the cellophane protective film. She closed her eyes for a moment, wishing that if she opened them she would see something new. A photo, a note, anything; maybe if she hoped hard enough she would find herself with two grown children and a husband who still knew peace. Every blank spot was just one more moment that had been stolen from her- one more memory she never got to see. When she closed the book, it felt lighter than it was when she started. Toriel had had enough of wallowing. It was a bad idea to dive into this. She supposed she wasn’t ready after all.

      She stood, planning on bringing the album back up to the attic where it belonged, when a piece of paper slipped out and floated to the ground. She reached down to pick it up, immediately noticing that it wasn’t a photograph. It was a drawing. The paper was slightly crumpled, and covered with the haphazard scribbles she had seen on scraps of parchment and in the margins of books around the palace library. She could see that her son had drawn himself, Chara, Asgore, and herself all holding hands in a patch of golden flowers. On the back, it said “Happy Birthday Mommy! Love Asriel, age 6”. It was too much. She was torn between needing to remember and wanting to forget, but this was more than a photograph. Her eyes started to water, and she felt the hot sting that meant it was too late to hold back the tears. She had never cried for her son when he died. Or for Chara, for that matter. Crying would have meant that it was real, that they were gone. If she had let herself cry then, she never would have stopped. Asgore had cried. She hadn’t known what to say to him when he asked her how she felt. The truth was, she hadn’t felt anything. She was numb, empty. It was as if someone had swept inside her and turned her soul to stone. All at once, years of pain poured out of her. The seal she kept tight around her heart had finally broken. Toriel struggled to calm herself, reigning in her breaths as she tried not to hyperventilate. _They’re gone_. _There’s nothing you can do about it now. Crying will not bring them back_. Slowly she felt herself return to normal. She patted her face with a tissue, still tightly grasping the drawing. Four little faces smiled back up at her, and for a second she forgot she was alone. With a sigh she smoothed out the drawing, carefully tucked it back inside, and placed the album gingerly on the nearest bookshelf. She wondered how a few hours and some photographs could have done so much. But then again, memories were draining. The funny thing was, she actually felt somewhat better. She had put off her grief for too long, and it had simmered like poison, eating at her from the inside. Hopefully, getting it out of her system would be the first step to being herself again. 

    She found her eyes drawn back to the book. Maybe someday soon she would be able to look at it without feeling the twinge in her chest. Maybe, she thought, she would find someone new- settle down, have children again. She hoped so. She had a stack of empty photo albums that wanted filling.


End file.
